More Than a Teaspoon

More Than a Teaspoon

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR "ORDER OF THE PHOENIX", INCLUDING THE NAME OF THE CHARACTER WHO DIES.

Set: In the Hospital Ward at Hogwarts, after the final battle.

Ship: R/Hr.

Madam Pomfrey placed a small bell next to Hermione's bed.

"Now, dear, I'm going to bed myself now, but if you need anything, you just ring this bell. I can hear it from my room and I'll come straight away."

"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," replied Hermione. She watched as the nurse turned and left the ward, the shaft of light from the corridor grew narrower and finally disappeared as the door clicked shut. There was silence for a few moments. To her right, Hermione could hear Ron moving around in the starched hospital sheets in the next bed. Shuffling down in her blankets, she shut her eyes and tried not to think about what had happened the previous night.

"Hermione?" Ron whispered through the darkness. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," she whispered back. "I'm worried about Harry. I can't believe- I hope he's- I don't know how to-"

"I know. Neville said he wasn't talking about it to anyone. Don't know if he should bottle it all up. Maybe you could talk to him- you know you're better at that sort of thing than me."

"Maybe he doesn't want to talk to a girl about it though. I know who he'd normally talk to about this sort of thing, but...well..." Unable to finish the sentence, she could feel pin pricks in the corners of her eyes, and she inhaled sharply.

Ron could hear the soft noise coming from Hermione's bed. She's crying, he thought. Was he supposed to comfort her? A little nervous about what to do in this sort of situation, he swung his legs over the edge of his bed, ignoring the stinging in his limbs. He pulled back the curtain and shuffled over to her bed, feeling his way with hands outstretched in the dark.

He leant over her. Hermione was curled on her side, facing him. He lowered himself into a visitor's chair beside her and looked at her face.

"Erm...don't cry, Hermione. Don't cry." He patted her shoulder.

"Oh Ron," her voice cracked. "Sirius was the closest thing Harry had to a parent. He looked so...hopeless today. And I don't know how to help him," she sobbed. "I just don't know! I feel like I shouldn't cry because he wasn't my godfather and we didn't know him like Harry did."

Ron handed her a tissue.

"Come on, move over," he said, pushing her shoulder back. She moved over, but then realized what he'd asked and sat up abruptly.

"Ron, I don't think-" she sniffed.

"It's alright." He interrupted, smoothing the bed covers and then sitting on top of them. Hermione seemed to relax, but still watched him intently out of tear-filled eyes.

"If you need to cry, then cry, Hermione." He said. "We all had a...a bad night. He was our friend too, and I know I'll miss him a lot too." Ron's voice wavered on the last word. Hermione heard it and more drops fell from her eyes. Ron slumped where he sat for a moment, then reached up and put his arms around his friend. He heard Hermione inhale quickly, but soon felt her arms around him too.

They held onto each other, and Hermione could feel wetness spreading on the shoulder of her pyjamas. They stayed like that for a long time, grieving for their friend and remembering silently the one they'd lost.

It wasn't until just after dawn that Ron woke up, aware that his left arm had gone numb. He thought for a moment his wounds had gotten worse, but then realized that he still had his arms around Hermione. He lifted his head. She was still asleep, breathing softly. He was on the top of the bedcovers, but someone had placed a blanket over him. He looked around quickly, just as Madam Pomfrey came through the closed curtains around Hermione's bed. He pulled his arm out from under Hermione's head.

He and Madam Pomfrey stared at each other. He could feel his face getting hot.

"Good morning, Mr Weasley," she said quietly. He thought he saw the corners of her mouth turn up, just slightly.

"Madam Pomfrey! I'm so sorry...we fell asleep- I didn't...She was crying-" Ron spluttered.

"Mr Weasley," she interrupted. "It's alright. I trust that you conducted yourself in a responsible manner. But I must ask that you move back to your own bed now, please." Reluctantly, he stood up and Madam Pomfrey ushered him back to his own curtained-off room.

As she was about to leave him, she said quietly, "You know Mr Weasley, I think that sometimes love is a better healer than any other remedy." Lying back on the pillows, Ron thought that perhaps his emotional range was growing.